


More Untitled Work.

by JingoisticMusician



Category: Homestuck
Genre: And equally shitty writing., Merry Christmas Rum., Multi, Wargs for everyone.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:45:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2849729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JingoisticMusician/pseuds/JingoisticMusician





	1. Beginning.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beloved](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beloved/gifts).



There was never a day that went without the children of Skaiet being warned against wandering too far from the villages, against venturing into the depths of Dersen Forest. There were fabled to be monsters lurking in the murky wood, trolls that would not hesitate to steal a child. Wolves with glowing red eyes and teeth that dripped poison. Of all the children, John was warned the most. As Heir to the throne of Prospin, he was the most important child alive. The most hard-headed one as well. 

Sometimes the trappers and hunters of the villages brought home live beasts from the forest. Lizards with teeth like needles. curious, tiny bears that burst into flame under threat. Horses that ate meat like predators, with coats constantly rippling various shades of black. Cats that disappeared and left only the unblinking of luminescent eyes. Birds with wings of fire, ice, lightning. Creatures that struck fear and wonder into the hearts of everyone who saw them, adult and child a like.

By chance, one day in Aupre, the fourth month of Yetin, a group of Trappers returned to the village of Winshar. The home of the Heir. With them was a covered wagon, pulled by horses with manes of wind and hooves that showered sparks every time they hit the ground. Right up to the home of the Heir did the noble horses trot, and without being told they stopped in the court yard. 

A crowd had formed, and the people whispered among themselves while John was escorted outside. At the age of ten he was still a tiny child, but his eyes were lit with mischief and never ending curiosity. Curiosity that constantly got him into trouble. 

Everyone's attention was captured when a tall man separated himself from the group of trappers and made his way to John. Silently he took a knee and took the cap off of his head, holding it to his chest. He stayed that way with head bowed for several seconds before rising once more, and then he spoke in a booming voice, walking away from John to return to the side of the wagon. "My name is Cyrus Grant, and I have come from deep within the Dersen Forest with a treat for our Heir, and the people of Winshar."

He paused to look out at everyone, letting a few seconds pass by before speaking again. "What I have decided to bring is a ferocious beast, hideous, illusive." His hand moved to the cover on the cage, fingers gripping at the rich fabric. "This beast slaughtered two of my men and injured four others before we could subdue it. I give to you, the mighty Warg." 

The cover was pulled free, and people in the crowd gasped. Inside stood a large beast, bigger than the horses that carried it. Shadows danced in it's thick fur, swirling and stretching as if it were alive. Orange eyes glistened above a maw that dripped liquid fire, canines that extended down, free of the mouth. They were tinted red, and gleamed in the light like wicked blades. Cyrus tapped the side of the wagon, and the beast inside turned to look at him, fixing him with eyes that gleamed with hate. He only smiled serenely at it before turning his attention back to John. 

"I had originally thought to bring this beast here as a gift to you, but it is too wild. Instead I've decided to leave you with the horses that drew the carriage. Tonight they will be left in your stables." With that he bowed, and covered the cage up again. John was ushered back inside, and the crowd dispersed just as the trappers did. 

Any other child would have been content with the horses, but John was not. For weeks he was haunted by the strange beauty of the Warg, and finally, one day in the middle of the night he crept free of his room. It was not hard to clothe himself in the outfit of a hunter's child. With hood drawn up to cover his face he stepped into the darkness of Dersen Forest.


	2. Into the Dark

As soon as he stepped into the forest, it went silent. There was not even a sigh of wind moving through the branches. John was unsettled, but also determined. He would not let the silence scare him off, not until his curiosity was sated. Rolling his shoulders, he stepped further in, and almost immediately the forest came alive with sound. Bird calls, the rustling of animals underfoot and various other noise that he could not quite name. Needless to say, he was awed. In front of him a stag leapt out onto the path, and in the darkness it glowed brilliantly. coat white like virgin snow. It's antlers glistened like diamonds, and when it turned it's head John was amazed to find that it's eyes were jewels. Emeralds that gave off sparks. Behind it a doe stepped out of the underbrush, and her coat shone like silver. Her eyes were ruby, and shone just as brilliantly as the stag's. They both stood on the path, motionless before bounding off again, back into the darkness of the wood. 

John, still awed by what he had just witnessed, stood dumbly for a few moments. Only the rustling of more things moving snapped him out of his daze, and he drew the cloak he wore tighter, starting out on the path. Nothing else crossed his path, but he did catch continuous glimpses of the wondrous beings calling the forest home. Moths the size of his head floating through the air. Tiny rabbits covered in glittering runes, disappearing at the blink of an eye. Swarms of multi-colored bats, owls with feathers reflected the light. So many things he did not know what to do, and they all left his mind whirling with wonder.  


So many wondrous things in the wood, and John began to think that all the tales of ferocious beasts were false. Simple stories to keep others from discovering the wonders of the wood. Blooming night flowers seemed to add to his decision, and after a few more minutes of walking without trouble he nodded to himself. "All those silly stories weren't real! Just myths to keep us from coming here..But wait until I go home and tell everyone how nice this forest is." 

His words hung in the air for several moments before the snapping of a twig jerked his attention from a moth he had been watching. Off to the left, in the underbrush a pair of glimmering red eyes focused on him, and John felt the first ounce of fear creeping in on him. Instead of acknowledging the eyes he kept on walking, hands shaking slightly. Behind him the beast followed, making it's presence known every few feet with the snapping of it's jaw or the crunch of things underfoot. 

As John began to speed up his walking, his stalker did as well. It was not long before fear gripped him, and he started to run down the path, feet pounding against the packed dirt. Behind him he heard the guttural snarl of some large beast, and the sound of it's pursuit. Just ahead was a bend, and just before he reached it something stepped out onto the path. John knew stepping off the path was not good. But he also knew staying on it and facing this creature would end badly. So he took his chances and left the bath. 

As he careened through the brush the growling grew louder, and his heart began to thump in his chest. He couldn't run much longer, he was growing tired and his legs ached like they never had before. It felt like something was breathing down his neck with hot, sickly sweet smelling breath. He could feel teeth sinking into the back of his leg, and he could not even shout before he was falling to the ground. He immediately tried to scramble up again, but the pain in his leg prevented it, and instead he turned to face the beast, scooting away on his bottom. 

Before him stood stood some beast akin to a cat. It was far too large to be a cat, and leathery wings sprouted from it's back and laid flat along it's sides. It's fur was darker than the night that surrounded them, and in places there was no fur. Just large patches of leathery skin. It's teeth were sharp like razor blades, and when it looked at John he found himself trapped by it's gaze. Slowly it crept forward, and when it's maw was mere inches from his face it suddenly jerked back, head lifting to listen to something he could not hear. 

The animal gave an enraged hiss and turned it's back on John, facing off in the direction they had come from. When John finally heard noise, it sounded like the barking of dogs and the howling of wolves. There was a strange ring to it, an echo, but he could not focus well enough to register it. In front of him the cat-beast snarled and stalked off into the brush, leaving John alone to face whatever beast was coming now. He was too tired to even care anymore, and his eyes slid shut. 

The noise grew louder and soon enough it filled the area around John, and he did not open his eyes. Fatigue and pain worked to keep him from panicking further, and only when the noise finally died down did he open his eyes. They were caught by the golden glow of some other beast, and before he could make a sound there was a rough tongue running up the side of his face. John could not react, and he only stared dumbly. 

The owner of the rough tongue was a Warg. Golden furred, golden eyes, blue fanged. Nonexistent wind rippled it's fur, and danced in eddies beneath the beast's feet. It was not as big as the one he had seen weeks ago, the size of hunting dog. When it leaned in to lick his face again John did not know whether to cry or to laugh, because he was still alive. Still alive and his savior was the child of horrors.


End file.
